


The Shoeshinist

by Parks and Fluff (GamblingDementor)



Series: Parks and Rec AU [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, George Washington IS Ron Swanson, M/M, Shoeshining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/Parks%20and%20Fluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First outtake of my Parks and Rec AU "The Master Plan", featuring George Washington as Parks Department Director! I'm publishing these as one-shots so you can enjoy them separately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shoeshinist

If there is one thing George Washington hates, it’s weak-willed men. That includes almost everyone in City Hall, and most of his Department. If there is another thing he hates, it’s when his body tries to turn him into such a man.

 

For the past several days, he has been harboring a bunion on the big toe of his left foot. He has managed to hide it so far, but he is sensing that his body is reaching its limits. Now, George considers himself a tenacious man. He has on multiple occasions survived wilderness for days on end in his earlier days as a park ranger before becoming the director of the Parks Department. Even to this day, he regularly spends time in one of his cabins in the woods, sometimes with the company of Lafayette, always with the company of Mother Nature. But even a strong man such as himself is subject to parasites infecting his mind and he is starting to find the pain less than tolerable.

 

“What is with you?” Lafayette asks him the second time he winces from his toe throbbing. “You are hurting?”

 

George groans. He wouldn’t want to worry Lafayette. This plan would work better if the groan didn’t turn into a whimper of pain, though. Before he can think of an excuse (he wishes he had Alexander’s fast mind sometimes), Lafayette is at his side, his hand on George’s shoulder, comforting.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

George looks away. He hates sharing this kind of thing with anyone, even Lafayette.

 

“I, erm,” he starts and represses another groan as his toe throbs inside his shoe − it feels much too tight. “I have a bunion. On the big toe of my left foot.”

 

“That means hurt, no?”

 

Reluctantly, he nods. Lafayette is rubbing circles on his shoulder with his thumb and it’s almost soothing enough to distract him from the pain in his toe. Almost.

 

“You have to do something about it, George.”

 

“Mmphf.”

 

Lafayette drops it, at least while they’re at work, and George almost puts the entire subject out of his mind.

 

Until he is walking down the hall and his toe throbs so hard that he bumps into someone.

 

“Hey, watch it, man!”

 

That someone sitting on a stool gets knocked down, and when he gets back up again George recognizes him as the shoeshine boy who was idling by his stand.

 

“Mr Washington, Sir! Sorry I yelled at you… erm… Shoeshine to make it up?”

 

Bright smile, donning a slouching gray beanie that looks vastly unprofessional, though no less than his dirty apron wrapped over a plaid flannel, Hercules Mulligan has all the looks of the shoeshine boy he was hired to be. George has used his services many times − he likes his shoes so shiny he can see his reflection in them. He nods and sits down for a good old shine.

 

“Any news of lot 48?” He asks, picking up a magazine and flicking through the pages thoughtlessly.

 

Hercules sits down and starts fiddling with the different varnishes he owns, pouring a little bit there, and polishing just the right amount here. The man knows his stuff, that is obvious. Not just shoe-shining, actually. As a general rule, Hercules Mulligan _knows_ things.

 

“Heard the library might be onto it,” Mulligan says.

 

As soon as he sets to work on George’s shoes, a wave of pleasure runs through George’s body and gives a hug to all of his nerve-endings. What is this sorcery?

 

“Library, huh? Alex won’t like that.”

 

“That’s just what rumor says, Sir.”

 

Simple, efficient, Hercules Mulligan is an artist of the shoeshine. The bunion that was causing George so much pain not five minutes ago feels like it’s starting to recede already. So much for Lafayette’s concern. He is too prompt to worry for his own good.

 

“Whatever the case may be, I’m sure we will…”

 

He is just about to say more but Mulligan twists his rag in just the right way and the words get caught in his throat. This feels _excellent_. There is no reason so spoil a perfectly good shoe-shining with idle conversation. He sits back and enjoys the ride. Mulligan doesn’t ask further questions.

 

Later that day,̛ Burr comments on him looking bright and happy. Lafayette eyes the both of them suspiciously, but says nothing.

 

“Do I look different? I feel as I always do.”

 

He then gestures for everyone to get back to work, though not unkindly. To tell the truth, and even if that is nothing to concern his employees with, he does feel bright and happy. City Hall is hosting a brilliant artist, whose name is Hercules Mulligan and who performs wonders with his hands and his shoe-shining brushes.

 

As it turns out, his miracles are also short-lived. Before the day is over, the bunion is making George cringe with pain every so often again.

 

“… which is why we ought to shut the parks two hours later on week days. I’ve already asked the maintenance staff and they’re actual… Sir, are you alright?”

 

George realizes, too late, that he seems to have zoned out during Alexander’s impromptu presentation on his new idea to ameliorate the existing park system in Pawnee. In his short time in the Department, the young man has already accomplished so much. He has singlehandedly revised the Rec Center schedule and made them smoother on all teachers involved as well as more flexible for the students. He has negotiated healthier and cheaper snacks for the vending machines in the parks. He has organized several treasure hunts and all-day fun activities for the children of Pawnee (he has a way with children no one would have suspected, even George who had great expectations for Alexander). And he has taken over most of the menial paperwork induced by the daily running of the Department. George is very satisfied with him − not that he thought anything different would happen when he hired him. Unlike popular belief, he is not opposed to change. He is opposed to change for no reason. So far, all of Alexander’s ideas have been improvements, which is why he feels ashamed that he missed the latest one. It was probably smart and well thought out.

 

“I apologize, I’ve been, erm, preoccupied. Do go on.”

 

But as soon as Alexander starts talking again, George knows his mind is not functional enough to process it.

 

“Listen, Alex,” he interrupts, which he despises but this is urgent. “We will talk about this tomorrow. Sent the plans to my inbox, I’ll read them over tonight.”

 

Alexander looks like he has a thing or two to say about this, but he agrees and makes quick exit − probably about to go tell Burr all about this. George has no time to fret. He is up and gone before he can hear any of that mindless gossip, which he hates anyways.

 

“Hey, Mr Washington, so long no see!” Mulligan jokes as he sits down on the shoe-shining stand for the second time that day.

 

“I scratched my shoe,” he lies through his teeth clenched with pain.

 

He knows Mulligan will see the truth of it really soon, but this is a dire situation that forces him to equally dire measures, such as lying. As soon as Hercules Mulligan gets to his left foot again, he sighs with relief. It was all worth it.

 

“You know you should see a doctor,” Lafayette tells him that night. “I hate seeing you in pain, my love.”

 

George huffs but offers no reply. He does _not_ need a doctor. The only medical care he is open to receiving is open-heart surgery should he need it some day, and even then, he’s not entirely sure it can’t be had with alternative means that do not involve the medical fraud community.

 

The next day, before even sitting down at his desk, he crosses the yard to check if Mulligan has arrived, then a second time later when he sees that he hasn’t. Third time is a charm and he plops down on the leather covered chair in a much less dignified manner than he cares to admit. He’s had time to work on his lying now, however.

 

“I went hiking yesterday and didn’t bring a change of shoes.”

 

“Mmh,” Mulligan doesn’t even pretend to believe him, but he gets to work nonetheless and that is all that matters.

 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” George mutters when the brush tackles on his left foot.

 

He can’t even believe his own body. How can a zone that causes him so much pain be the source of so much pleasure with just a touch of Mulligan’s magic? Internally, he scoffs at Lafayette’s silly suggestion. There is absolutely no need to see anyone. He has the specialist he needs right here in City Hall. This feels so good that he can’t refrain the loud moan that escape him before it’s too late.

 

“Er…”

 

Mulligan stares at him. He stares at Mulligan. Neither say a word, but the spell has been broken and they both know it. With the last shred of self-respect he still owns, George stands up on shaky legs and walks away.

 

 

That night, he goes to see a doctor for his bunion.


End file.
